Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) (19 page)

The
tikoloshe
froze. “What did you say?”

“I said if the fight had lasted long enough—”

“No, no, no, the other thing. About discovering the details of their deaths?”

Narcisse shrugged. “If they had kept fighting, I could have convinced her that Julien killed his wives for a horrible reason—temper, drink, sadistic pleasure. When they were fighting, she loved him but was unsure if he truly loved her in return.
That
is a woman who will do whatever it takes to silence the doubting voice in her head.” He tapped the ground absent-mindedly. “But as I told you, they are no longer fighting. They have grown closer, close enough that she will not believe such ugliness of him so easily. I do not think it will be enough to make her go against her self-imposed rules to raise our beloved ladies.”

“Like all humans, you have let your silly emotions blind you to what is right in front of your nose.” A cruel smile twisted the
tikoloshe’s
lips, though the expression was somewhat lost behind the sheer volume of its unkempt beard. “We must appeal not to the woman—but to the voodoo queen.”

“You cannot separate the woman from the voodoo queen.”

“Stupid human. The voodoo queen denied her feelings for this lightning bird for over a decade—would have continued to do so if circumstances hadn’t fouled things up. And during that decade, what did she concentrate on? Hmmm? Her community. Her people.” His eyes glittered. “Her duty.”

“Ahhh. Yes, I see what you mean.” Narcisse returned the creature’s smile. “I think it’s time for the grieving family to demand justice for their poor victimized sisters. Don’t you?”

“That is
if
you can manage it.” The diminutive hairy creature scowled. “I wouldn’t have thought inspiring a woman to look into the murders of her husband’s previous wives could be mucked up, but you managed it.”

The smile died on Narcisse’s lips and he stood to tower over the
tikoloshe
. “And what have
you
done? Besides swallow a pebble to make yourself invisible so you could spy?” He snorted. “I spy just fine without the benefit of invisibility. And I obtained more valuable information than you.”

“Did you, now?”

Something about the sly expression in the creature’s eyes set Narcisse’s teeth on edge. He would never question his ladies order, or their plans, but he couldn’t help but lament the value they seemed to place on this…thing. “Well?”

“It seems that our not-so-friendly swamp monster has quite a hunger for our voodoo queen’s husband. I dare say Parlangua would do anything to get our whining lightning bird on its dinner plate.”

Narcisse frowned. “The ladies won’t like that. They want Julien too. They were quite specific, and
very
adamant.”

“I don’t intend to actually
give
Parlangua the
impundulu
. I’m merely going to
offer
him.”

“That makes you ugly
and
ignorant. Betray Parlangua, and you’ll find yourself on its dinner plate right alongside the pirate.” He wrinkled his nose. “Though I have my doubts that even Parlangua could stomach eating the likes of you.”

Stubby fingers combed through the tangles of its thick beard, its chin jutted out in defiance. “Worry less about your twisted concept of attractiveness and more about how you’re going to find someone to convincingly portray grieving relatives to a woman who scares the daylights out of half the village.”

“I already have the perfect women in mind.” Narcisse fluttered a hand at the miscreant, brushing aside its derision. “Don’t concern yourself.”

“Some of your precious patronesses, no doubt.”

Narcisse smirked. “No. Whores.”

The
tikoloshe
snorted. “Whores?”

“Yes. Any woman who can fake attraction and orgasm the way these ladies do should have no problem feigning a bit of grief for our voodoo priestess.”

“All right then,” the
tikoloshe
admitted grudgingly. “I suppose that could work.” He sniffed, somehow managing to look down his nose at Narcisse despite his small stature. “See that they do it today. Don’t let the queen snuggle any further into the lightning bird’s nest, or even her sense of duty may become compromised.”

Narcisse opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get any words out, the
tikoloshe
scooped up its pebble and popped it into its mouth. Instantly the creature vanished, only the rush of grass giving away its retreat. Narcisse rubbed his arms as if he could somehow rid himself of the oily touch of the
tikoloshe’
s presence.

“Miserable minion.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dominique lay in bed, her chin propped up on her hand as she studied her husband. Morning sunlight bathed Julien’s face, casting the small line between his brows in sharp contrast. The line had carved itself into his brow in the midst of his pain the night before and had never quite disappeared, even in sleep. Her hand danced in the air, wanting to smooth that line away, but not wanting to wake him.

Her raised hand cast a shadow over his face, a band of darkness passing over his features like an eclipse. Brown eyes flew open, his fingers closing around her wrist before she’d even registered he was awake. Adrenaline singed her veins, the world tilting as Julien jerked her closer, twisted his body so she was underneath him. Bed-warmed clothes tangled around her waist, making something flutter low in her stomach.

“Dominique?” Blink. A slow smile spread over sinfully supple lips. “Good morning.”

His voice was a seductive purr, rumbling up from deep in his chest. Allowing herself a small return smile, Dominique waited to speak until the butterflies settled. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Invigorated.” Julien shifted his weight, settling more firmly on top of her. He released her wrists in favor of sliding one arm under her body, arching her against him as he caressed her jaw with his other hand.

“Are you still in pain?” The words came out breathier than Dominique would have liked, but her tone was even. She struggled not to clear her throat, composing her face into calm concern.

“The only pain I feel is that of being denied a proper wedding night with my beautiful wife.” Julien ducked his head, pressing a heated kiss to the pulse in her throat. The kiss lingered, velvety lips sliding against the tender skin before drawing a hot line with his tongue.

Pleasure curled in Dominique’s belly and she squirmed underneath the weight of Julien’s body. The friction of their clothing against her suddenly sensitive skin felt good. Too good.

“Julien…” She pressed feebly against his shoulders.

Tension seized his body as if in an instant he’d been petrified into solid stone. The pulse in his throat fluttered like a living thing and sweat glistened at his temples. Alarm tightened Dominique’s spine. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but closed it when his haunted eyes hovered over her hand on his chest.

The gesture mirrored the moment she’d thrust her power into him. The moment that had devastated him so completely. Slowly, she moved her hand to his jaw, cradled it as she tilted his face so she could gaze into his eyes.

“I can help with the pain, if you tell me about it. Do you know of any other of your kind that has gone through a separation like that?”

“
Chere
, you insist on ruining the mood.” Julien shook his head, but there was still tightness around his eyes, a strain in his voice.

The warm feelings she’d been enjoying so much all day faltered at the forced playfulness in his tone. She studied Julien’s face, searching for some sign of the vulnerability she’d seen last night, the glimpse of a real person behind that roguish grin. “Julien, talk to me. I’m worried about you. Have you ever known an
impundulu
to go through the breaking of that bond?”

A tiny burst of silver sparked in his pupil like a lone star in a black sky. He pulled his arm from under her, jostling her hard enough to clack her teeth together, and rolled over onto his back.

“No. No, I have never heard of one of my kind breaking such a bond. To even suggest it to them would be to invite ridicule and incredulousness. None of my brethren could fathom not being blissfully content to be enslaved by a magic user, they could not imagine a more wonderful fate than being bonded to a witch for all eternity.”

His jaw tightened. “Only the magic user could break the bond anyway, and I would imagine there are very few who would be willing to do so even if it was what the
impundulu
wanted. The only way for one of my kind to forcefully free themselves would be to kill the magic user.” He curled his lip in a half-sneer. “So glad that wasn’t necessary.”

Pain lanced Dominique’s heart and she quickly wiped the emotion from her face. This was not the man she’d crawled into bed with last night, the one who had bared his soul to her. This was the pirate she had cursed, the one who had run rather than facing her. The one who’d framed the ship hanging across from the bed she’d laid in, like a tangible vehicle to escape his destiny. Otherwise, the room’s walls were mostly bare. Like nothing else mattered.

Nothing of the man she’d held last night remained but the crumpled sheets swaddling her, and the rag and water bowl she’d used to cool his feverish brow. She shoved back the covers and climbed out of the bed, not caring that her jerky movements made her look like a marionette with its strings tangled. She stalked across the room and snatched her head scarf from the chair where she’d draped it last night before bed.

“
Chere
, where are you going?”

“You mean where are
we
going. I have a lot to do in the village today, and it would be suspicious if my new husband didn’t accompany me so that everyone could wish us well. Get dressed and let’s go.”

She kept her back to him and glared down at her clothes. She hadn’t taken the time to go home to get a different dress. She’d been too
worried,
too
concerned.

“Hurry up, pirate, I don’t have all day.”

“Careful how you talk to me, Dominique.”

Julien’s tone dropped two octaves and the shifting of the bed told Dominique he’d stood. She kept her back to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of making her nervous. It was time he learned who he was dealing with.

I’ll turn his beard pink this time
.

“I told you I will not be a servant,” he growled. “I will not be spoken to as one either.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dominique spun on her heel, fixing Julien with a gaze that had sent lords scurrying back to their studies. “I thought putting up a front of a happily married couple to my people was part of our arrangement. Or are you reneging on our deal? Was your lamenting about your business and your poor men just a ruse to get your ring on my finger?” She snorted. “Well,
a
ring, that is. A sham like everything else about you.”

A red flush flooded Julien’s face, irises lost to molten obsidian. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. Dominique let his temper build, let him tumble closer to the edge. She waited until words started to form on his lips before she interrupted him.

“Nevermind, I should have known you would be a late riser. I need to go home and get changed. I’ll have my things brought here later today so we can maintain this charade as convincingly as possible.”

She swept out of the door, scarcely resisting the urge to bolt down the hallway just to flee his home, run from everything that reminded her of him, of how she had been fooled—
again.

Servants bowed and offered congratulations and she accepted their well wishes with as much graciousness as she could muster. The smile she wrenched her mouth into for their benefit hurt her face and for the first time in years, Dominique took a carriage to her home instead of walking.

The driver waved off payment, as expected, and Dominique bestowed a blessing on him before exiting the carriage. The sight of her home helped ease the knot of tension sitting in her chest and when she was certain the carriage was out of sight, she hastened up the walk to her cottage.

“Fresh from the pirate’s bed, I see?”

Dominique stiffened at the hoarse voice that came from directly behind her. Slowly, she turned, fighting to keep her breathing level as she found herself eye to eye with Parlangua, sickly chartreuse eyes boring into hers. The monster stood less than three feet away, thick hide still dripping pungent swamp water and mud—a sign that it had been lying on the very bottom of the swamp. No doubt hiding from Dominique. Waiting.

“Are we enemies now?” Dominique’s brow knitted, her question somewhere between a sad observation and a heartfelt plea.

“Should we be?”

“You tell me.” She squared her shoulders, but didn’t reach into the satchel at her side. There was no need to escalate things if she didn’t have to. “You tried to eat a child.”

“Your
husband
did considerable damage. I will not apologize for trying to survive.”

“A child?” There was something of a child in her voice, some plea for Parlangua to reassure her, to tell her it would never willingly hurt a child, that the events of the previous day were a mistake, something done in a panic.

“I am what I am. It is all anyone can ever say.” The reptilian beast dipped its head. “I am sorry for the injuries I caused you. You were not my intended target.”

A weight dropped in her gut like dread, and she stiffened. “Please excuse me. I cannot have this conversation with you now.”

“He has disappointed you again, then.” Parlangua snorted, a rough wet sound. “He has always been your weak spot.”

A weed brushed Dominique’s ankle, taunting her with a sudden itch. She ground the offending plant into the ground with the heel of her boot, filling the air with the scent of crushed greenery. “He is no longer my weak spot.”

“No, now he is your husband. But you are not his first wife.”

Stomach rolling at the glimpses she got of the monster’s bloodstained tongue as it spoke, Dominique focused on its eyes. “I know that. He had three others.” She tried to sound bored, as though Julien’s marital history was of no more interest to her than the thickness of moss on the trees. “If that’s what you came to tell me, then—”